I woke up at about 4:15 last night- not surprising. In fact, it was my third middle of the night wake up which is currently par. (Though at times it feels more like a handicap.) This time, though, something was scarily different.
My body was jittery, but I couldn't remember coming out of a scary dream. I laid there for a second simply feeling my pulse race and trying to breathe deeply. After a few minutes of deep breathing I was only more terrified because I was still shaking. I placed my left hand on my belly and used my right index finger to take my left wrist pulse. My pulse was steadily slower than my shaking body. It was at this time that I realized I wasn't having an anxiety attack, but my belly was.
Peanut had the hiccups.
Gratitude List (12/28/11)
Lunch visit with Bethy
Dinner visit with Jenny
Chance to visit with Aunt Joy, Uncle Mike, and Debora
Decaf gingerbread latte from Starbucks
Sleeping in because Jason got up with Wolfie
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Monday, December 26, 2011
We're Having A...
You know from this post that Christmas day was a big reveal day for whether we would be spending our money on prom dresses or car insurance. I thought quite a bit about opening the red envelope on Christmas Eve before bed, but Jason and I waited until morning as we promised we would.
I was getting a bit anxious about this reveal. I figured that both ways I would feel elated and deflated because with this one announcement some visions of future bliss would grow and others would disappear. Tea parties vs. playing trucks. Pink vs. blue. Baby-sitters Club vs. Artemis Fowl. Gymnastics vs. peanut league. (Haha tennis and choir, either way.) Sleeping Beauty vs. Hercules. Hormone hell vs. Trips to the ER. (Note: I believe in gender equality as much as the next moderate woman of the 21st century, but these seem to be the likely direction of Peanut's life based on my own experiences growing up in a little town in Ohio.)
Well, Christmas morning arrived and I got up, got breakfast in the oven, and stocked Jason's stocking with his goodies. The whole time I was getting things together, my hands were itchy. In A FEW SHORT MOMENTS I would know whether there was a penis growing in me or not.
We sat down together on the big chair in our living room and opened the envelope. S l o w l y.
Inside of the card we saw...
We grinned at each other, kissed, and I wiped away a few happy tears. (Of course I also cried over a Charmin commercial the other day. That mama bear just wants the baby to be clean.)
So, we're having a son. A boy. Can't wait.
Gratitude List
A bouncing baby boy
Seeing my parents' faces when I told them they would have a grandson
Watching the nephews and niece celebrate and play
Having a chance to talk with the SILs and BILs
Two wonderful pairs of in-laws
 |
| The card waiting on the tree next to a too cute ornament from a colleague. |
Well, Christmas morning arrived and I got up, got breakfast in the oven, and stocked Jason's stocking with his goodies. The whole time I was getting things together, my hands were itchy. In A FEW SHORT MOMENTS I would know whether there was a penis growing in me or not.
We sat down together on the big chair in our living room and opened the envelope. S l o w l y.
 |
| Get it? (There is a seed on the card. ) |
 |
| Our doctor is so adorable. He wrote, "Happy to be your child. Thanks for creating me, Your Son." |
So, we're having a son. A boy. Can't wait.
Gratitude List
A bouncing baby boy
Seeing my parents' faces when I told them they would have a grandson
Watching the nephews and niece celebrate and play
Having a chance to talk with the SILs and BILs
Two wonderful pairs of in-laws
Saturday, December 24, 2011
Just Gratitude Tonight
Gratitude List
God gave his only son for us.
I have a healthy family
Next Christmas I will be celebrating with Peanut in my arms
Peanut's daddy
My support system is much wider and more supportive than I ever imagined.
God gave his only son for us.
I have a healthy family
Next Christmas I will be celebrating with Peanut in my arms
Peanut's daddy
My support system is much wider and more supportive than I ever imagined.
Questions You Would Ask if You Saw Me
The holidays are a great time for running around, eating too much, and spending quality(?) time with friends and family. I remember going to my grandparents' homes on Christmas Day and having the same discussion with nearly everyone over the age of 25. (And in total I have 20 aunts and uncles, so I remember this conversation well.)
Hi Ashley! Give me a hug! You've gotten so big! (I smile while generally being smushed against rib cages or ample chests with a muffled "Mfrank tchou.)
How is school going? (It's good. I like school. They let me get my work done and then let me read. It was pretty much all I wanted.)
You're in ____ grade now, right? (Nope. Doesn't matter.)
Who's your teacher? (Mrs. _________. Not that you know her.)
Is she nice? (Sure. She lets me borrow her books and read when I get my work done.)
Where's your brother? (I'm not sure. I'll go get him for you.)
And that was my cue to escape to the basement where my cousins and I would play games, make up plays/musicals, create human pyramids, and bother the older kids. They were cool. Really cool. They had letter jackets, carried footballs, sported side ponytails, acid-washed jeans and BIG permed hair with flippy bangs.
On Thanksgiving, I caught myself doing the same routine with anyone under the age of 21. It must be a requirement of childhood.
Now that I'm visibly pregnant there is a similar set of questions to answer.
Hi Ashley! Give me a hug! You've gotten so big! You really are pregnant, huh? (Yup. The stick said so, the blood test confirmed it and the ultrasound proved that there is only one baby in there. Oh, and I'll have to give you a butt-out hug because these babies are 2 cup sizes larger and the belly sticks out an inch beyond them.)
Blank stare. How many months is that? (IDK. The books and doctors only care about weeks. Do the math. I'm somewhere between 4 and 7 months.)
Are you having a boy or girl? (Cue the monologue.) "Well, we don't know yet, but the doctor does. You see, Jason wanted to know the gender, but I wanted to be surprised at delivery. It would have been okay for him to know, but we both knew he wouldn't keep it a secret and I didn't want his second cousin's neighbor to know the genitalia of the baby I was growing before me, the grower. Soooooo, (deep breath) we decided to split the difference in time and have the doctor write down whether we are growing a boy or a girl on a Christmas card and then put the card on the tree to be opened on Christmas morning. This way we find out before the babe emerges, but it can be a private moment and memory for us."
People only respond in 2 ways to this.
1) That's SO ADORABLE! Your baby really is a gift from God and your idea is so sweet. (Swoons.) Your self-control must be incredible. I don't think I would have been able to wait. Did you peek? Do you want to peek?
2) (Blank stare.) Why? If you're going to find out, why did you wait so long?
Harumph.
So, have you had an weird cravings? "Pineapple, oranges, clementines, kosher dill pickle juice, milk, butter pecan ice cream, cheese balls, wonton soup, shrimp (which I didn't like before,) beer, and merlot."
You look good. How much weight have you gained? At first I was taken back by this inquiry, but I've found that pregnant women belong to the world, and no question is too personal. "As of my last doctor's appointment, 5 pounds." (Never before in my life had I had ANY trouble gaining weight, but now that I'm encouraged to pack on the pounds, I can't seem to rise to the occasion. It adds to my feelings of inadequacy, but I suppose this would have happened if I had stopped drinking beer and wine for 6+ months and threw up continuously for 2 of those months.)
Are you excited? It depends. Excited to meet, snuggle, cuddle, coo over, sing to, and generally adore Peanut? Absolutely!! Excited to expose lady parts to a plethora of medical personnel while experiencing some serious trauma? Not so much.
Are you going to breastfeed/co-sleep/have an epidural? Yup. Doubt it. I'm no hero, so I'm planning to get whatever they'll give me. Do you think medicinal marijuana is an option? (jk...)
Where's Jason? I'm not sure. I'll go get him for you.
So, hopefully I've answered some of you questions without being too smug. (Click on the word smug. You'll love it.)
Gratitude List (from yesterday)
Chance to catch up with friends from high school
Great meal at Fahrenheit 600
All of the bathrooms in my house were clean at the same time
Finished wrapping the presents
Baked a new recipe
The cashier at WalMart told me about a sale at another store and gave me the price match
Long chat with Amanda as she drove back from Louisville
Neither the cat nor dog broke an ornament yesterday
Hi Ashley! Give me a hug! You've gotten so big! (I smile while generally being smushed against rib cages or ample chests with a muffled "Mfrank tchou.)
How is school going? (It's good. I like school. They let me get my work done and then let me read. It was pretty much all I wanted.)
You're in ____ grade now, right? (Nope. Doesn't matter.)
Who's your teacher? (Mrs. _________. Not that you know her.)
Is she nice? (Sure. She lets me borrow her books and read when I get my work done.)
Where's your brother? (I'm not sure. I'll go get him for you.)
And that was my cue to escape to the basement where my cousins and I would play games, make up plays/musicals, create human pyramids, and bother the older kids. They were cool. Really cool. They had letter jackets, carried footballs, sported side ponytails, acid-washed jeans and BIG permed hair with flippy bangs.
 |
| Christmas with G&G West: 1985 Can you spot the coolest kids? |
On Thanksgiving, I caught myself doing the same routine with anyone under the age of 21. It must be a requirement of childhood.
Now that I'm visibly pregnant there is a similar set of questions to answer.
Hi Ashley! Give me a hug! You've gotten so big! You really are pregnant, huh? (Yup. The stick said so, the blood test confirmed it and the ultrasound proved that there is only one baby in there. Oh, and I'll have to give you a butt-out hug because these babies are 2 cup sizes larger and the belly sticks out an inch beyond them.)
 |
| And now you see why the butt-out hug is a requirement. |
Are you having a boy or girl? (Cue the monologue.) "Well, we don't know yet, but the doctor does. You see, Jason wanted to know the gender, but I wanted to be surprised at delivery. It would have been okay for him to know, but we both knew he wouldn't keep it a secret and I didn't want his second cousin's neighbor to know the genitalia of the baby I was growing before me, the grower. Soooooo, (deep breath) we decided to split the difference in time and have the doctor write down whether we are growing a boy or a girl on a Christmas card and then put the card on the tree to be opened on Christmas morning. This way we find out before the babe emerges, but it can be a private moment and memory for us."
People only respond in 2 ways to this.
1) That's SO ADORABLE! Your baby really is a gift from God and your idea is so sweet. (Swoons.) Your self-control must be incredible. I don't think I would have been able to wait. Did you peek? Do you want to peek?
2) (Blank stare.) Why? If you're going to find out, why did you wait so long?
Harumph.
So, have you had an weird cravings? "Pineapple, oranges, clementines, kosher dill pickle juice, milk, butter pecan ice cream, cheese balls, wonton soup, shrimp (which I didn't like before,) beer, and merlot."
You look good. How much weight have you gained? At first I was taken back by this inquiry, but I've found that pregnant women belong to the world, and no question is too personal. "As of my last doctor's appointment, 5 pounds." (Never before in my life had I had ANY trouble gaining weight, but now that I'm encouraged to pack on the pounds, I can't seem to rise to the occasion. It adds to my feelings of inadequacy, but I suppose this would have happened if I had stopped drinking beer and wine for 6+ months and threw up continuously for 2 of those months.)
Are you excited? It depends. Excited to meet, snuggle, cuddle, coo over, sing to, and generally adore Peanut? Absolutely!! Excited to expose lady parts to a plethora of medical personnel while experiencing some serious trauma? Not so much.
Are you going to breastfeed/co-sleep/have an epidural? Yup. Doubt it. I'm no hero, so I'm planning to get whatever they'll give me. Do you think medicinal marijuana is an option? (jk...)
Where's Jason? I'm not sure. I'll go get him for you.
So, hopefully I've answered some of you questions without being too smug. (Click on the word smug. You'll love it.)
Gratitude List (from yesterday)
Chance to catch up with friends from high school
Great meal at Fahrenheit 600
All of the bathrooms in my house were clean at the same time
Finished wrapping the presents
Baked a new recipe
The cashier at WalMart told me about a sale at another store and gave me the price match
Long chat with Amanda as she drove back from Louisville
Neither the cat nor dog broke an ornament yesterday
Thursday, December 22, 2011
25 Minutes of Peace
I've noticed a new cycle in my life. (Perhaps replacing the old one...) Every four weeks since late July I spend approximately 3 weeks, 6 days, 23 hours, and 35 minutes worrying that I have hurt/mutilated/strained Peanut and 25 minutes feeling confident that all is well. This does not aid my (already fragile) sanity.
At my first prenatal appointment my midwife (Yes, a midwife. No, I don't eat granola, hug trees, or wear organic fabrics. I even plan to use (gasp) disposable diapers.) was pleased to know that I was the assistant tennis coach because it meant I'd be exercising regularly. I had been terrified that a tennis ball would bean me in the midsection, crushing my fragile gummy-bear-sized babe, but she said that I had nothing to fear and that Peanut was well protected by my torso. (Note: Did she call me fat? How did I miss that at the time?)
Since then, I find it easy to believe that my every decision impacts Peanut's well-being. If I miss a prenatal vitamin with breakfast I have hindered brain and heart development. When I pick up a 24 pack of Pepsi to put it in the grocery cart, I have strained Peanut's limb or kidney development. On the really challenging mornings that I drink 1/2 of a cup of coffee, I have forced ADHD upon my unsuspecting child. Obviously, I overreact. If you've been reading my blog this should be no surprise.
Well, yesterday I had a real scare and I couldn't blog about it until I had some results from my doctor's appointment. At school we had a dance on Wednesday afternoon. A few of the more rambunctious kiddos went wild with the freedom and began running in crazy circles around the gym. One of those kiddos ran smack into my bump with some real force. Then, through the evening and night I didn't have the constant internal nudging of Peanut. (How about some pickle juice, mama? Maybe a bite of chocolate, coconut, almond Grater's ice cream? You know we could indulge a little...) I didn't relax until today when the nurse squirted some goop onto my tummy and Peanut let loose with some irritated kicks. Apparently, being cold is not kosher to my fetus. Then, we heard a loud, steady heartbeat and I could breathe again.
Of course, the feeling lasted about 25 minutes when I walked past a man smoking on the street. (My baby is going to have asthma, now.) At least now my appointments will be 2-3 weeks apart so there will be less time between peaceful moments.
Gratitude List
Mid-morning nap
Phone time with Joanna and Mom
Made plans to see Jenny-bunny
Found some perfect presents
Listening to Newsies while wrapping presents
Chatting with Patt at my appointment and giving her a chance to hear her newest grandchild's heartbeat
At my first prenatal appointment my midwife (Yes, a midwife. No, I don't eat granola, hug trees, or wear organic fabrics. I even plan to use (gasp) disposable diapers.) was pleased to know that I was the assistant tennis coach because it meant I'd be exercising regularly. I had been terrified that a tennis ball would bean me in the midsection, crushing my fragile gummy-bear-sized babe, but she said that I had nothing to fear and that Peanut was well protected by my torso. (Note: Did she call me fat? How did I miss that at the time?)
Since then, I find it easy to believe that my every decision impacts Peanut's well-being. If I miss a prenatal vitamin with breakfast I have hindered brain and heart development. When I pick up a 24 pack of Pepsi to put it in the grocery cart, I have strained Peanut's limb or kidney development. On the really challenging mornings that I drink 1/2 of a cup of coffee, I have forced ADHD upon my unsuspecting child. Obviously, I overreact. If you've been reading my blog this should be no surprise.
Well, yesterday I had a real scare and I couldn't blog about it until I had some results from my doctor's appointment. At school we had a dance on Wednesday afternoon. A few of the more rambunctious kiddos went wild with the freedom and began running in crazy circles around the gym. One of those kiddos ran smack into my bump with some real force. Then, through the evening and night I didn't have the constant internal nudging of Peanut. (How about some pickle juice, mama? Maybe a bite of chocolate, coconut, almond Grater's ice cream? You know we could indulge a little...) I didn't relax until today when the nurse squirted some goop onto my tummy and Peanut let loose with some irritated kicks. Apparently, being cold is not kosher to my fetus. Then, we heard a loud, steady heartbeat and I could breathe again.
Of course, the feeling lasted about 25 minutes when I walked past a man smoking on the street. (My baby is going to have asthma, now.) At least now my appointments will be 2-3 weeks apart so there will be less time between peaceful moments.
Gratitude List
Mid-morning nap
Phone time with Joanna and Mom
Made plans to see Jenny-bunny
Found some perfect presents
Listening to Newsies while wrapping presents
Chatting with Patt at my appointment and giving her a chance to hear her newest grandchild's heartbeat
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
In which I wallow and give too much personal information
Did you read the title? That was your only warning.
So, I'm 26 1/2 weeks pregnant. That pretty much means that I'm living out the last of what every pregnancy book/blog/website or woman who has conceived a child tells me is that last 1/2 week of comfort before I explode into my own personal Hindenburg of 3rd trimesterness. (That reference is related both to size and gaseousness.)
I know I'm supposed to be a glowing, joyful, rosy-cheeked, basketball smugglin' mama-to-be, but sometimes I just feel like I'm reliving puberty. I get mad over little things (I'll save the tannenbaum saga for another day), cry over everything (especially that d*mn "Dear Sophie Lee" GMail commercial), my clothes don't fit right, and I'm breaking out so much that I hid my magnification make-up mirror. (Which now I can't find. Grr. See? Mad over another little thing.) More than that, I'm feeling pretty lonely which is really ironic considering I'm packin' a kickboxing Peanut 24/7.
Isn't feeling lonely the pits? Worst of all is feeling sorry for your lonely self, but not feeling up to making plans. I know I could call someone or hop in the car and visit a friend or family member, but wallowing seems to be my action of choice. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
The truth is that I thought I had plans tonight, but there was a miscommunication leaving me chillin' solo. (Note: Chillin' solo sounds like fun. I'm contemplating cleaning the bathroom to keep busy.) I suppose this is enough self-pity to last for some time, so I'll digress into a happy tale from not so long ago.
Late July: (Please imagine a Zach Morris-esque fade out to a booth in Panera)
Me: I don't get it. I've been eating right, working out, and drinking buckets of hose water. Why is my weight plateauing?
BFF Amanda: Maybe you're pregnant.
Me: . . . (Internal monologue: What? Is that possible? Nobody gets a bun in the oven that fast! Should I buy a pregnancy test? While I'm at it should I get some prenatal vitamins? No! I'd be jinxing us if I spent money thinking that I was already pregnanct. I did have that piece of cake last week. That's the problem with the weight plateau. Oh yeah. And the cake was chocolate, so I know it is doing its cakey duty and hanging onto my thighs for 3 additional weeks. Pregnant? Bahahaha.) Pregnant? That'd be funny!
BFF Amanda: Okay, so . . .
4 minutes later (Internal monologue: Maybe I should just swing by Target to pick up a test to be sure.)
The next morning when a second pink line let me know that Peanut was officially enwombed, my first thought was of how to tell the news to my partner in crime. You see, Jason was away at band camp. (Take a minute to chuckle at your own band camp joke.)
Jason is a choir teacher for the local high school and attends band camp each year to help out with the marching program. I, despite 8 years of trumpet/french horn playing, opt out of spending a week in the unairconditioned dorms of Bluffton with 130 teenagers.
I knew Jason would be home in the early afternoon, so I had approximately 6 hours to come up with a clever way to let him know that he was packin'. Fortunately, I am an OCD-licious, sentimental gal and had purchased a tiny pair of Cleveland Browns socks months before we even considered adding to the world's population problem. I ransacked the linen closet (my hiding location of choice) and found said pair of itsy-bitsy orange and brown socks. After wrapping them, I hustled to work wondering how I would keep the secret until 2ish when Jason should arrive home.
After the longest 5 hours of shoe-assisting, I headed home to give Jason the telltale package. I was jittery even while walking into the door. Things would NEVER BE THE SAME after this news. After 3 minutes of chit-chat about camp and work, I nonchalantly (yeah, right- my hands were sweaty geysers) tossed a small package at him with a witty, "I got this for you."
He slowly peeled away the wrapping and said, "Socks? You got me socks?"
Me: Uh-huh.
J: Browns socks? Thanks.
Me: . . .
J: They're for a little person.
Me: . . .
J: Whose little person?
Me: . . . Your little person.
J: Really?
Me: (Nods. Cries.)
J: Wow.
(Big hugs and kisses- Crazy happiness ensues.)
Gratitude List
Happy memories
Christmas dance at school
Dinner out at Cassano's
Only 4 days until we find out if Peanut is XX or XY
Surprise bonus time to clean the bathroom (or take an unexpected nap)
So, I'm 26 1/2 weeks pregnant. That pretty much means that I'm living out the last of what every pregnancy book/blog/website or woman who has conceived a child tells me is that last 1/2 week of comfort before I explode into my own personal Hindenburg of 3rd trimesterness. (That reference is related both to size and gaseousness.)
I know I'm supposed to be a glowing, joyful, rosy-cheeked, basketball smugglin' mama-to-be, but sometimes I just feel like I'm reliving puberty. I get mad over little things (I'll save the tannenbaum saga for another day), cry over everything (especially that d*mn "Dear Sophie Lee" GMail commercial), my clothes don't fit right, and I'm breaking out so much that I hid my magnification make-up mirror. (Which now I can't find. Grr. See? Mad over another little thing.) More than that, I'm feeling pretty lonely which is really ironic considering I'm packin' a kickboxing Peanut 24/7.
Isn't feeling lonely the pits? Worst of all is feeling sorry for your lonely self, but not feeling up to making plans. I know I could call someone or hop in the car and visit a friend or family member, but wallowing seems to be my action of choice. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
The truth is that I thought I had plans tonight, but there was a miscommunication leaving me chillin' solo. (Note: Chillin' solo sounds like fun. I'm contemplating cleaning the bathroom to keep busy.) I suppose this is enough self-pity to last for some time, so I'll digress into a happy tale from not so long ago.
Late July: (Please imagine a Zach Morris-esque fade out to a booth in Panera)
Me: I don't get it. I've been eating right, working out, and drinking buckets of hose water. Why is my weight plateauing?
BFF Amanda: Maybe you're pregnant.
Me: . . . (Internal monologue: What? Is that possible? Nobody gets a bun in the oven that fast! Should I buy a pregnancy test? While I'm at it should I get some prenatal vitamins? No! I'd be jinxing us if I spent money thinking that I was already pregnanct. I did have that piece of cake last week. That's the problem with the weight plateau. Oh yeah. And the cake was chocolate, so I know it is doing its cakey duty and hanging onto my thighs for 3 additional weeks. Pregnant? Bahahaha.) Pregnant? That'd be funny!
BFF Amanda: Okay, so . . .
4 minutes later (Internal monologue: Maybe I should just swing by Target to pick up a test to be sure.)
The next morning when a second pink line let me know that Peanut was officially enwombed, my first thought was of how to tell the news to my partner in crime. You see, Jason was away at band camp. (Take a minute to chuckle at your own band camp joke.)
Jason is a choir teacher for the local high school and attends band camp each year to help out with the marching program. I, despite 8 years of trumpet/french horn playing, opt out of spending a week in the unairconditioned dorms of Bluffton with 130 teenagers.
I knew Jason would be home in the early afternoon, so I had approximately 6 hours to come up with a clever way to let him know that he was packin'. Fortunately, I am an OCD-licious, sentimental gal and had purchased a tiny pair of Cleveland Browns socks months before we even considered adding to the world's population problem. I ransacked the linen closet (my hiding location of choice) and found said pair of itsy-bitsy orange and brown socks. After wrapping them, I hustled to work wondering how I would keep the secret until 2ish when Jason should arrive home.
After the longest 5 hours of shoe-assisting, I headed home to give Jason the telltale package. I was jittery even while walking into the door. Things would NEVER BE THE SAME after this news. After 3 minutes of chit-chat about camp and work, I nonchalantly (yeah, right- my hands were sweaty geysers) tossed a small package at him with a witty, "I got this for you."
He slowly peeled away the wrapping and said, "Socks? You got me socks?"
Me: Uh-huh.
J: Browns socks? Thanks.
Me: . . .
J: They're for a little person.
Me: . . .
J: Whose little person?
Me: . . . Your little person.
J: Really?
Me: (Nods. Cries.)
J: Wow.
(Big hugs and kisses- Crazy happiness ensues.)
Gratitude List
Happy memories
Christmas dance at school
Dinner out at Cassano's
Only 4 days until we find out if Peanut is XX or XY
Surprise bonus time to clean the bathroom (or take an unexpected nap)
Oops.
I fell asleep on the couch last night.
Gratitude List (from yesterday)
Free jeans day at work
PTO provided pizza for lunch
Adorable student who couldn't wait for me to open the gift he brought me, so he opened it for me on the bus
Naps on the couch
My wonderful classroom aide
Gratitude List (from yesterday)
Free jeans day at work
PTO provided pizza for lunch
Adorable student who couldn't wait for me to open the gift he brought me, so he opened it for me on the bus
Naps on the couch
My wonderful classroom aide
Monday, December 19, 2011
My Cat Is Trying to Destroy Christmas
Heathen.
Thus far she has broken four glass ornaments, three Christmas cards, knocked fake candles out of their window holders, and attempted to eat a batch of cookies. I don't know why she hates Christmas so much, but I think it has something to do with her favorite toy, Moose, and her sworn enemy, the dog.
Last January we got an adorable puppy, Wolfie. Obviously, the cat was unhappy about the howling, smelly intruder, but nothing made her as mad as when he absconded her favorite toy, Moose, as his own plaything.
It had to have been especially difficult for her because Moose began as a stuffed Christmas ornament which became her toy after I got tired of hangin it back on the tree after she knocked it off for the eleventy-billionth time.
Clearly, Liesl and Moose were a short term fling because once the gigantic beast (pictured above with his toy, Mushu) decided that Moose would be fun for chewing, Liesl was no match for his exuberance. Maybe that's why she keeps knocking ornaments off the tree; she is still looking for her long-lost Moosie.
My cat hates Christmas. She has a kitler 'stache. I've watched her hiss at a 9 day old kitten. Maybe we should look into kitty counseling for her before the Peanut arrives...
Gratitude List
Great jazz band assembly
Incredible coworkers
Receiving surprise flowers at school from a friend
My pretty Christmas tree, all lit up in the picture window
Long chat with Amanda
Thus far she has broken four glass ornaments, three Christmas cards, knocked fake candles out of their window holders, and attempted to eat a batch of cookies. I don't know why she hates Christmas so much, but I think it has something to do with her favorite toy, Moose, and her sworn enemy, the dog.
Last January we got an adorable puppy, Wolfie. Obviously, the cat was unhappy about the howling, smelly intruder, but nothing made her as mad as when he absconded her favorite toy, Moose, as his own plaything.
It had to have been especially difficult for her because Moose began as a stuffed Christmas ornament which became her toy after I got tired of hangin it back on the tree after she knocked it off for the eleventy-billionth time.
Clearly, Liesl and Moose were a short term fling because once the gigantic beast (pictured above with his toy, Mushu) decided that Moose would be fun for chewing, Liesl was no match for his exuberance. Maybe that's why she keeps knocking ornaments off the tree; she is still looking for her long-lost Moosie.
My cat hates Christmas. She has a kitler 'stache. I've watched her hiss at a 9 day old kitten. Maybe we should look into kitty counseling for her before the Peanut arrives...
Gratitude List
Great jazz band assembly
Incredible coworkers
Receiving surprise flowers at school from a friend
My pretty Christmas tree, all lit up in the picture window
Long chat with Amanda
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Oh, children
I'm a teacher. Have I mentioned that, yet?
I teach 4th grade and other than wife, daughter, sister, and friend I consider teacher to be one of the most important labels of my life. I love what I do (minus making copies and angsty parent emails/letters) and feel way fortunate that I get paid to do what I love.
This year I have the greatest class. They are sweet, funny, generally hardworking superstars and I love them.
Since telling them that I was going to be a mama, they have been even more fantasticly adorable and funny. Allow me to explain via reader's theater.
Cafeteria lady: Hey Mrs. S! I bet you'd like an extra chicken wrap since you're eating for two!
Me: Of course. (Pats 18 week tummy. Aside: I had gained 2 lbs. by this point.) You can see I'm packing it on!
Adorable sweetheart boy: (With total sincerity) Mrs. S., I think you look great. Seriously. I would never guess you were having a baby. That lady was bullying you. Do you want me to go to see the guidance counselor with you so you can talk about it?
Setting: Playground. Recess.
Kiddo: Mrs. S., do you know what your baby will be?
Me: I'm hoping for a person.
Kiddo: That's good. You already have a dog and a cat, right?
(This one I heard secondhand.)
Big brother: So, I heard your teacher is pregnant.
Little brother: Nope, I don't think so.
BB: Yes, she is.
LB: No she isn't, but she will be in March. (Peanut is due 3/26)
Morning Announcements: As a special treat, at Thursday's skating party, some of the teachers are going to have a race.
Kiddo: Mrs. S., are you going to be in the race?
Other kiddo: No! She can't! What if she falls? It could hurt her baby! Please don't do it Mrs. S!
Me: Please take out your materials for SSR. (Swiftly turns to grab read-aloud book and knocks over stool with suddenly inflated baby bump.) Sigh.
Cutie pie: Its okay, Mrs. S. The baby is supposed to get bigger.
I'm so dang lucky to spend the bulk of my day with them.
Gratitude Time
Christmas with J's Mom's side of the family
Watching the Survivor finale with my dad
Getting to meet Miss Anne Elizabeth G. at church
Celebrating Joanna's quarter of a century birthday
Peaceful car ride with Jason to West Mansfield
I teach 4th grade and other than wife, daughter, sister, and friend I consider teacher to be one of the most important labels of my life. I love what I do (minus making copies and angsty parent emails/letters) and feel way fortunate that I get paid to do what I love.
This year I have the greatest class. They are sweet, funny, generally hardworking superstars and I love them.
Since telling them that I was going to be a mama, they have been even more fantasticly adorable and funny. Allow me to explain via reader's theater.
Cafeteria lady: Hey Mrs. S! I bet you'd like an extra chicken wrap since you're eating for two!
Me: Of course. (Pats 18 week tummy. Aside: I had gained 2 lbs. by this point.) You can see I'm packing it on!
Adorable sweetheart boy: (With total sincerity) Mrs. S., I think you look great. Seriously. I would never guess you were having a baby. That lady was bullying you. Do you want me to go to see the guidance counselor with you so you can talk about it?
Setting: Playground. Recess.
Kiddo: Mrs. S., do you know what your baby will be?
Me: I'm hoping for a person.
Kiddo: That's good. You already have a dog and a cat, right?
(This one I heard secondhand.)
Big brother: So, I heard your teacher is pregnant.
Little brother: Nope, I don't think so.
BB: Yes, she is.
LB: No she isn't, but she will be in March. (Peanut is due 3/26)
Morning Announcements: As a special treat, at Thursday's skating party, some of the teachers are going to have a race.
Kiddo: Mrs. S., are you going to be in the race?
Other kiddo: No! She can't! What if she falls? It could hurt her baby! Please don't do it Mrs. S!
Me: Please take out your materials for SSR. (Swiftly turns to grab read-aloud book and knocks over stool with suddenly inflated baby bump.) Sigh.
Cutie pie: Its okay, Mrs. S. The baby is supposed to get bigger.
I'm so dang lucky to spend the bulk of my day with them.
Gratitude Time
Christmas with J's Mom's side of the family
Watching the Survivor finale with my dad
Getting to meet Miss Anne Elizabeth G. at church
Celebrating Joanna's quarter of a century birthday
Peaceful car ride with Jason to West Mansfield
Insom-preg-nia
It is 3:36 am and I am awake. Nope, it isn't becaue I just got home from an awesome club or night out. Again, I'm not cool. I had to pee and once I was up for it, worrying became my BFF.
One of the biggest changes I've experienced from pre-bun-in-the-oven to post is that this child has already taken one of my favorite pasttimes- sleep. I have multiple sleep trophies, certificates, and awards and even earned an honorable mention at the X-games for extreme-napping. I can fall asleep anywhere and stay there all night with no trouble. Well, I used to.
Now, though, I'm up at least once every night with some sort of ailment. Worrying. Coughing. Having my internal organs beaten up until I rearrange my position. Worrying. An insatiable need to empty my bladder despite the fact that I've sworn off liquids after 8 pm. Worrying.
My mom (making her second appearance in this blog) says, "If you pray, why worry? If you worry, why pray. Thus, what begins as a tiny thought, "What if Peanut decides to make his/her arrival known before (insert important event in the near future)?" becomes a life altering, I must get up and hash this out through a series of pie charts, Venn diagrams, and top ten lists event. Then, inevitably, I remember mom's platitude/admonishment and start to pray. Thus, I cry for not being more reliant in God and generally fall asleep again worrying that I've again offended Him.
Wow. This got very personal quickly. Hormones...
Moral of the story: Peanut has stolen my sleep. I've heard that I might get it back in 18 years. Until then, I've got to get to the praying portion of the night faster.
Gratitude list
Cuddling with Wolfie
Soft bed
Multiple toilets in our house
Preggle (awesome pillow which has certainly helped give me additional Zzz's)
DVR
One of the biggest changes I've experienced from pre-bun-in-the-oven to post is that this child has already taken one of my favorite pasttimes- sleep. I have multiple sleep trophies, certificates, and awards and even earned an honorable mention at the X-games for extreme-napping. I can fall asleep anywhere and stay there all night with no trouble. Well, I used to.
Now, though, I'm up at least once every night with some sort of ailment. Worrying. Coughing. Having my internal organs beaten up until I rearrange my position. Worrying. An insatiable need to empty my bladder despite the fact that I've sworn off liquids after 8 pm. Worrying.
My mom (making her second appearance in this blog) says, "If you pray, why worry? If you worry, why pray. Thus, what begins as a tiny thought, "What if Peanut decides to make his/her arrival known before (insert important event in the near future)?" becomes a life altering, I must get up and hash this out through a series of pie charts, Venn diagrams, and top ten lists event. Then, inevitably, I remember mom's platitude/admonishment and start to pray. Thus, I cry for not being more reliant in God and generally fall asleep again worrying that I've again offended Him.
Wow. This got very personal quickly. Hormones...
Moral of the story: Peanut has stolen my sleep. I've heard that I might get it back in 18 years. Until then, I've got to get to the praying portion of the night faster.
Gratitude list
Cuddling with Wolfie
Soft bed
Multiple toilets in our house
Preggle (awesome pillow which has certainly helped give me additional Zzz's)
DVR
Saturday, December 17, 2011
NY Resolution in December
I'm starting my NY Resolution early (perhaps this will make up for the lapses in blogging we both know I'll inevitably have) by attempting to keep a better record of life as it flies by. I've never been an avid journaler, although I long to write eloquent thoughts about life in a locked diary for my progeny to one day discover and snicker through, but maybe with enough readership and encouraging comments I'll keep it up.
Reasons I'm not writing this blog:
I live a fascinating life.
I'm a great writer.
I have deep thoughts that the world should have regular access to. (Duh. I tweet for that kind of stuff.)
Here's the real reason I'm writing:
I'm having a baby. And the world ought to have the opportunity to hear about my little Peanut, whom I already adore despite the fact that s/he is in utero and gender neutral. Don't think I'm biased. My mom thinks Peanut (who she prefers to call Butterbean) is incredible too. I know because she told everysinglenurse/orderly/doctor that she is going to be a grandma when she had surgery on Thursday.
Basic Cast List:
Jason (husband for 2+ years and daddy-to-be)
Peanut (gender undetermined, wiggly, 26 week-old fetus)
Wolfgang ColtMcCoy Stanford (fuzzy, wild, rescue dog and my SoulPuppy)
Liesl (stealth cat extraodinaire and Jason's SoulKitty)
Me (neurotic worrywart with the best intentions for wifedom and mommyhood)
Gratitude list (Another NY Resolution I've broken year after year)
Healthy family complete with kicking Peanut
Quality time with mom while she recovered from her surgery on Thursday
Watching Catch Me If You Can hand-in-hand with Jason
Adorable shower invitation arrival courtesy of my sweet SIL, Joanna
Nearly finishing today's to-do list (darn you, last load of laundry!)
Reasons I'm not writing this blog:
I live a fascinating life.
I'm a great writer.
I have deep thoughts that the world should have regular access to. (Duh. I tweet for that kind of stuff.)
Here's the real reason I'm writing:
I'm having a baby. And the world ought to have the opportunity to hear about my little Peanut, whom I already adore despite the fact that s/he is in utero and gender neutral. Don't think I'm biased. My mom thinks Peanut (who she prefers to call Butterbean) is incredible too. I know because she told everysinglenurse/orderly/doctor that she is going to be a grandma when she had surgery on Thursday.
Basic Cast List:
Jason (husband for 2+ years and daddy-to-be)
Peanut (gender undetermined, wiggly, 26 week-old fetus)
Wolfgang ColtMcCoy Stanford (fuzzy, wild, rescue dog and my SoulPuppy)
Liesl (stealth cat extraodinaire and Jason's SoulKitty)
Me (neurotic worrywart with the best intentions for wifedom and mommyhood)
Gratitude list (Another NY Resolution I've broken year after year)
Healthy family complete with kicking Peanut
Quality time with mom while she recovered from her surgery on Thursday
Watching Catch Me If You Can hand-in-hand with Jason
Adorable shower invitation arrival courtesy of my sweet SIL, Joanna
Nearly finishing today's to-do list (darn you, last load of laundry!)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)